Golden Skin, Golden Heart
by Goldude
Summary: The dream is dead. Few things remain. Having been sold at an auction, Springtrap now has to deal with a small family. Will he become a murderer again, or will he finally be able to depart?
1. Brief History Lesson

I am still here.

That doesn't give you nearly enough information, does it? Very well. I suppose we should start at the beginning.

_"Hush now, child. Your tears will stop in but a moment."_

Freddy's Fazbear's Pizzeria was when I first did it. The year was 1974. I had pulled up in my car, wearing my favorite purple shirt. The child was looking at the window longingly. I took one glance inside the window and saw children happily playing with a group of animatronics, having a party. There was a bear, a fox, a duck, and a rabbit giving out cake to everyone. Smiles were on both child and adult alike. I looked around as I had an idea.

An idea that had stuck to me for years upon years. It seemed that everywhere I looked. all I saw was a challenge. How could I do something and get away with it? It was at this moment, I decided to go along with it. Broad daylight... in front of a window. This was going to be a very great challenge.

_"Gnnhk- kkkkhk-"_

I stopped my car right next to the child. As he spoke to me, I took out a handkerchief, wrapped it around the child's throat, and pulled as hard as I could.

_SNAP_

That was my first. Of course, I now had evidence. I took the handkerchief with me, got back into my car, and drove off as if nothing happened, leaving the child's corpse in a heap on the ground. Three days later, no one came. Then three more days had passed. I took one look at the morning newspaper.

_"Jeremy Fitzgerald was charged for the murder of a child, but further evidence suggests that he is not the culprit."_

I had escaped. There was no punishment for me.

And then came the bizarre. Rumors about strange incidents where the animatronics began stuffing people into suits. Deaths being recorded in the pizzeria. Hauntings. Some black and white puppet with tears being able to move. Investigations were held and the pace eventually closed down/. Everything quieted down.

_"Grand reopening! Vintage pizzeria given new life! Come be a part of the new Freddy Fazbear's Pizza! What could go wrong?"_

Summer of 1987. Things got interesting again. There was one position available. I took the night guard job. Why did I go back to the crime scene? Well... I am always up for a challenge. If I could kill again and escape, this would definitely top my last kill.

I was told there were new animatronics fitted with a criminal database. They couldn't have had my face on there. They couldn't. I was worried. Then came even more strangeness.

_"It's just all rumor and speculation... People trying to make a buck. You know... Uh, our guard during the day has reported nothing unusual. And he's on watch from opening til close."_

Sounds. Things moving in the shadows. I became jumpy. The animatronics... well, the new ones they dubbed Toys... and Mangle... were they the ones causing those strange goings-on? After a week, I requested to become a Day Guard. I admit that was a little bit of a panicked decision, but I had wanted to be sure I wasn't caught. I met with the new Night Guard once. It was a small world after all.

Jeremy Fitzgerald. By the time he got started, I had already memorized the entire layout. I even noticed something... odd. The animatronics seemed to be able to wander everywhere... except a room with two golden suits. I dubbed it the safe room. The urge to challenge myself became that much harder to resist. When it was nearly time to end my third shift, I acted. I put on a suit they dubbed Golden Freddie and lured six children to the room the animatronics couldn't access and ended each and every single one of their lives.

_"We had a spare in the back, a yellow one, someone used it..."_

I didn't show up the next day. I called in to quit, complaining about how the animatronics were acting increasingly unsettling and staring at me constantly. I told them it was too unsettling and that I feared for my life. I think what startled me the most was that the bodies of the children were never found. No, wait. That was wrong. What startled me was... well, the now-former night guard was involved in an incident with an animatronic. The Bite of '87. Jeremy Fitzgerald survived, somehow. The place closed down for what I had thought was for good soon after.

_"Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced."_

It was not until 1992 that the pizzeria opened up for a third chance. It was also not until that time that I had made a revelation. People were stuffed into suits before the first closure. I had yet not escaped. I had to go back.

I went back.

Using my knowledge of the layout, I lured each animatronic to the very edge of the safe room, one by one. When one turned around, that was when I struck. Freddie, Golden Freddie, Bonnie, Chica, Balloon Boy, The Puppet, and Foxy were all destroyed by my hand. I had thought to destroy the three Toy Animatronics and Mangle, but they had apparently been scrapped when Freddy's closed for a second time.

_"...why... why... why... why... why..."_

Then it all went wrong. So horribly, horribly wrong. Seven ghosts of seven children chased after me and trapped me in the safe room. Their faces were a nightmare to look at and one of them kept trying to get close to me. I recognized that one. My first kill. I was panicking. Panicking really hard. I pleaded with them to leave me alone. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw one suit remaining: Golden Bonnie.

_CRUNCH CRUNCH SNAP_

_"Help me! Someone help...!"_

There were training tapes detailing on how to properly use the golden hybrid suits. I never paid any attention to those. That was my first regret.

_SNAP SPLURNK CRUNCH_

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"_

I quickly entered what I thought was my own salvation. With a smug grin, I taunted the children.

_SPLURCH CRUNCH CRUNCH_

The reason they called them hybrid suits was because they could either be worn as costumes, or made as animatronics. To prepare the animatronic, the springlocks had to be put into place.

_CRUNCH SNAP CRUNCH_

Pain. Unbearable pain. It was the most I had ever felt as each springlock slid into place. A combination of age of disuse without maintenance and improper training became my nail in the coffin. I slumped against the wall, the children staring at me. I bled out. For four hours, I creamed for help. I twitched. I tried escaping the suit. The children stared at me until my last breath, when my head slumped down.

I did not survive.

But...

I was still there.

I had awoken days later in unbearable pain. The exact same amount of pain I felt during my death. I trembled and couldn't speak. It hurt too much. I could not move. I was awake. I was always awake. Days went by. Then weeks. Then months. I eventually regained the strength to move. I looked around the room.

There was no escape. They had sealed the wall up.

I was still there. And I was alone.

_"Dude? Dude! I totally found one! Awesome! This will totally make Fazbear Fright completely awesome!"_

Thirty years went by. All throughout, not a single ounce of pain had subsided. Thirty years of pain, torment, torture, and alone time gave one plenty of time to think. And change.

I no longer cared about killing children. Or anyone for that matter. I just wanted the pain to end.

I just wanted the pain to end.

I wanted to move on. I could not. I was trapped in my own eternal hell. At the tail end of thirty days, that was when HE came. I heard thumps against the wall and finally saw light. The new owner of the pizzeria... except it was no longer a pizzeria. The new owner mentioned turning the place into a horror attraction and I was the main feature.

I didn't care. I just wanted out. An end to my pain. A chance for my soul to depart.

They hired a night guard.

_"Hello!"_

Hope kindled inside of me. If I could get to him, I would finally be free. He had to have known about the hybrid suits.

He had to have known about the hybrid suits.

But there was only one small problem. I had thought I destroyed Balloon Boy. My torment would not end until it was destroyed. ...Well, two small problems. I could not reach the office where the night guard worked. Each night, I tried. Each night, I thought would finally be the end that I wanted. Each night, I failed. Each night, the night guard ran away.

_"Fazbear's Fright burns to the ground!"_

I thought I felt my mind splintering and breaking. I was at my wit's end. I just wanted to to end. I decided to use one last resort. I tore open the wiring and caused it to catch fire, then deciding to remain within that fire. I hoped the suit burned away, along with my soul.

_"The few items that were salvaged will be sold at public auction."_

I am still here. And now you know why. That was two days ago. I was bought by a woman with two kids.


	2. The Days Pass By

The mother called me Springtrap. She did not come up with that name on her own.

The person that found me in the safe room had first called me that. My guess is that it stuck. I suppose it was only fitting I shed my old name. I'm not human anymore. I did not need any more sustenance nor sleep. I'd accepted that I needed to lose things. My life, my freedom, and now, my humanity. It was also apt, given my current situation. The animatronic springs were not broken enough for me to escape. What had been broken was my hope.

I was bought from one dark room to open air. They had put me in the back of a truck and tied me down so I did not fall off. I didn't care to move at the moment. My animatronic eyes unblinking, I gazed only at the blue and the dots of white cloud that comprised the sky. I should have been more grateful for this long moment of peace. It's funny that regrets seemed to keep on piling on more and more ever since my death.

The sounds of the city faded into sounds much more familiar. The laughter of kids, the barking of dogs. I didn't keep track of time the drive to what had became my new home took. I only recognized that we were now in a quaint little suburban town where families of perfection usually stayed. They stopped in front of a perfect little two story house. 1233 Vaulide Street. It had everything a perfect suburban family ever wanted. A nice driveway, a healthy lawn, a mother, a father, and two daughters.

The very moment I saw them, I awaited for a challenge to hit me. It never did. My urges to kill really were long gone. Dead and buried forever. Another thing lost. Good.

_"That thing is a wreck. You shouldn't have bought it."_

They transferred me to their master bedroom. That was where I met the father that didn't come to the auction. He took one look at me before deciding instant disdain against my appearance. The mother and father argued for a time about me. The father wanted rid of me, not because of any sort of rumors. To him, I was an eyesore. He was right. The mother wanted to keep me. She told him her mother was there before Fazbear Entertainment bought out Fredbear's Family Diner, back when there were only Golden Bonnie and Golden Freddie. She told him She argued that she wanted to keep the dream alive in her heart and had been to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria when it had reopened for the second time as a child. Her mother adored Golden Bonnie and she adored Bonnie.

The mother had won the argument to the dismay of the father. It didn't matter to me. I would never have that type of interaction with other people anymore. I was just a relic to them. And a relic I had stayed. Unmoving, unthinking. Just watching the days pass by. There was no hope for me.

The children were, at first, suspicious and scared. Their mother had to introduce them to me to get them to warm up to me. I still had barely saw them throughout my unmoving days. They were not allowed within the room I was in.

_"Oh... Oh! Honey, they think they found more Freddy Fazbear stuff! I'll be gone for a while!"_

They had a computer in their room. I only noticed it when the mother mentioned it. The two argued for a few minutes before the two decided to go together. The children were gone. I was alone. Again.

Freddy Fazbear stuff. I could not help it.

I moved. I turned my head toward their computer. It was shut off. I was still in pain, but I moved again. My curiosity was a horrible thing, indeed. I could not help it. With a prod of one of my animatronic fingers, I turned it on and let it load up. A whole breadth of information was now at the ends of my fingertips and broken mind.

I could not help it. I moved from one prison to another. I was trapped in my own curiosity.

They did not have Lynx. I quickly found out that their internet was Firefox. It was capable of images, sounds, videos. This was all so new to me. What exactly had I missed?

As it turns out... I missed so, so much. I flitted from one thing to the next, researching as much as I could. So much information I never knew about and so many different types of things I had never ever seen before. Facebook, Youtube, a plethora of news websites, a thing called email, an avalanche of a type of thing called social media. I forgot about my pain for one moment. One very long moment. I was... I was so entranced by everything before me. I was nearly too late.

_SLAM_

_"Now, honey, just because it wasn't the entire arcade machine, it doesn't mean you get to be grumpy like this."_

My head whipped around to the sound. If I still had a heart, it would have been pounding right now. I still felt panic. I didn't want them to see me like this. I didn't want them to know that I could move. They would dismantle me. They would dismantle me like I dismantled all the other animatronics. The pain returned to my senses as I turned the monitor off and stealthily went back into my position.

They filed a police report. The mother and father had thought someone broke into their house and tried to steal their information. Nothing came of the investigation. Their thief was just too good.

And now, I had something to make the pain temporarily go away. I would gladly drown myself in their internet... become as addicted to it as I could. It helps me forget the pain. I was so desperate to stop feeling it.

I was so desperate.

I was also completely out of the loop. But as the weeks went by, that changed. I became accustomed to everything that I had. I learned the family's sleeping schedule, their job schedule, so much dealing with them. I was paying attention this time. Stay still when they were around, and move when they were gone. There were some hiccups that got in the way of this new routine of mine. Something new I learned was to avoid bad websites that contained viruses that damaged their computer. They threw blame around, not even thinking that it might have been me accidentally stumbling into some very bad places.

But I strove on, continuing to learn which websites were good and which were bad.

_"A bunch of shit-eating asslords, if you asked me. Body odor my ass."_

It was all fine and good up until that moment. One more mistake. One more regret. I wish I had never found Mike Schmidt's Youtube account. He runs a thing called a "vlog", pronounced "veelog". He had a job working as security at a mall somewhere. Had a different job before that, too. And I felt hope returning to me. He previously worked at a place called Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

I had to contact him. But that was no easy task. I could not use any of my owning family's accounts. I had to be as stealthy as possible, lest there's a chance they found me out. I noted briefly that the urge for the challenge of the perfect crime finally came back. Except that this was not a crime. This was my only chance to depart for good. My one chance at peace.

Weeks more passed as I studied everything I could about Mike Schmidt. The most useful thing I learned was that he had an email he uses for people to ask questions to him that he would answer on his vlog. Only one video was about Freddy Fazbear's. It was him talking abut his night guard job, the only week he was there. In each video, he seemed generally unprofessional, with his overall personality and ability to swear up a shitstorm at times. But that didn't stop me.

I made a new email. One website where the family that owned me wouldn't even know about.

_"What do you know about the two golden hybrid suits that Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria once owned?"_

I asked him one simple question, and then I covered my tracks and deleted the relevant history. It took nine days for a video featuring my question to be uploaded. Mike's mood was different than the usual. Somber... sad... a little pained. I didn't understand why until he got into it. There was a small warning for the squeamish, but then he continued. Telling the story of my descent into death. I was referred to as "the killer". It makes sense, because I had never been caught.

He was very sad at the deaths of the kids. The deaths that I had caused. I could almost hear them speaking to me, repeating a one word question... haunting me. I panicked a little, gripping my animatronic and trembling a little. No guilt, please... I didn't want to feel any guilt. Guilt was only more pain added to the amount of unbearable torture I was experiencing. I admit, I nearly acted on my panicked urge to destroy the computer monitor.

I merely sat... and watched, barely holding in an outburst. I was somehow panting... no, hyperventilating. All I wanted to do was escape the pain. Here I was, only bringing myself more.

_"I listened to all the tapes and had a new chat with Freddy Fright's security. He didn't have much of a job. Fucking place burned down to the ground after six days of him, but he mentioned a Golden Bonnie animatronic suit that was moving like the other ones I mentioned way earlier if you all remembered."_

I froze and those words echoed in my head. He had all the tapes... the tapes I never paid any attention to! They survived the fire I created! I had to talk to him further! He knew how to let me free!

_"Thank you so much for answering my question. I'm curious to look inside Springtrap. I'll bring him over to your place so you can open him up for us."_

His response came from an email, swearing up a storm. Mike Schmidt was surprised that the "family" that bought me had "contacted" him. He was really gung-ho about it and listed a place to meet. I made a plan right then and there. I would escape during the night, make it look like yet another break in... that someone had stolen me. Two nights after, it was time to go meet him. He had experience dealing with haunted animatronics. I should be nothing new to him.

While the mother and father were sleeping, I opened the door to the hallway... coming face to face with a child.

She looked up at me, blinked once, and then screamed.


	3. First Impressions

I had failed.

_"What the f- heck!? It can move?"_

The parents had woken up. I quickly glanced over to the parents. They were looking at me with horror and surprise. They would send me off to be dismantled unless I had control of the situation. There was no escape now, but the least I could have done was make things as smooth as myself as possible. With a pained hiss, I lunged at the child, picking her up. With one arm, I covered up the mouth and positioned myself so my hostage was now in full view.

The expressions of the parents turned into concern and worry. I noticed one of them had a flat, black thing in their hand, possibly to try and throw at me. In order to make myself known as in control, I throttled the child a small little and shook my animatronic head. The child had squealed, but that was not my main concern.

_"...What do you want with our child, you... thing?"_

Nothing. She was only a hostage so I could keep you quiet.

So I shook my head. Conveying what I want is difficult without the ability to speak without intense pain. But I like to think I managed very well by pointing at the two parents, quickly adding in a point to the child, before making a shush gesture and then pointing at myself. Everyone must keep quiet about me.

I made one more shush gesture to make sure they know to keep quiet.

_"You want us... to keep quiet about you...?"_

I nodded. What followed was a few seconds of silence, followed with some very careful negotiations. I, of course, got what I wanted. They had agreed not to talk about me anymore and sent their child back to her bed. And then the interviewing came. I did not have time for this, but I knew it was best to placate them. Mike Schmidt would have to wait.

They asked me a plethora of questions. I lied to the best of my ability, of course. They never put it together that I was a former child murderer. They only knew what I told them... that I was once employed by Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria and that I died while in this suit. They, of course, heard stories. So many stories. The father was nauseated and annoyed and vaguely uninterested, but still questioned me nonetheless. The mother? She was all over me. Obsessed. Perhaps unhealthily so. She kept on asking questions I could not answer. I just stared at many of the questions. She had started to get that I didn't have the strength to answer them thoroughly and completely without merely making gestures around the third hour.

The father had wanted to call the police a couple times, but the mother talked him out of it. Strange how he kept on reaching for that flat black box.

But they still now knew about one of my secrets. This was going to make it all the more difficult for me. And I couldn't go out after all of that had happened. It was far too late, and the father just kept on waking up before I could make any move. Each hour that passed just made the day get lighter.

Soon... it was morning. Fuck me. Anxiety started creeping into me by the time it was morning. There was the lingering thought that they would get the authorities and send me off to be disassembled, no matter what I did. Even if I pleaded and begged, even if I talked, even if I felt regret for killing those children and trying to atone for it. I became... jumpy. I just wanted out. That was all.

I had the urge to take a child hostage for a split second once again when the mother roused from her sleep. I did say I became jumpy. What she did next was... confusing.

She led me by the arm... forced me to take a tour of the house as she explained things and how things worked. And then she took me to the kitchen and ordered me to wait. I obeyed... only to have been met with a meal I could not eat. I tilted my head at her inquisitively. How did she expect me to eat.

_"It's only polite to offer a guest to a meal."_

I am a former-child-murderer-turned-haunted-animatronic and I get treated to some manners? I... admit I don't deserve them. I'm not human anymore. I rejected the meal with a shake of my head and went on over to their computer. I was about to turn it on when the father yelled at me. An extended stare had shut him up. ...Ha. Looks like I finally found a perk to being a zombie animatronic. My intimidation factor was all that needed to be said about me. He left in a huff. murmuring hatred toward me under his breath.

I only needed to let Mike know that something had came up and I would be able to make it tonight. I was about to send the email when the mother came in and started to yell at me and whack me with her hand.

_"That was you!? All of that was you!? You could've just asked! We had to reinstall Windows twice because of you!"_

This was annoying, but didn't add to the pain at all. I grasped her hand firmly with an agitated, pained hiss. I could so easily snap this hand. Instead, I merely glared. She sighed, shook her head, and finally left me alone.

I realized then that I was making a bad first impression to them all. I didn't care. I had only one goal in mind, and nothing would stop me. So what if they hated me or if they were frustrated with or scared of me? I'm just an animatronic with a soul unable to depart until freed.

And animatronics don't deserve any kindness.

The only thing I could do now is wait until night. Just one more day of pain. Just one more day of being in hell.

The waiting was the hardest part.


	4. The Notebook

The waiting would have been so much easier if I was allowed to drown myself in my own curiosity as I have many times before. I would have still felt in control of the situation. This was not the case. In fact, that bad first impression I gave off was yet one more regret to add onto my growing feeling of anxiety.

The parents, both of them, had took me to the dining room table to have a little hart-to-no-heart talk with me. They were upset with my recent behavior... the only behavior they knew of me. I didn't care. I should have. They gave me ground rules as the mother nursed her wrist with a small ice pack. I had felt as if they were treating me like a child with all of their ground rules. And there were so many. So many, that I might as well have been their child. They were incredibly restricting... Never being able to leave the house or unable to use the computer whenever I wanted and I was to treat their daughters with respect and so on and so fourth. They did not tell me to eat my vegetables or brush my teeth or take my showers or never to sneak into adult movies or even not to drink when underage.

I was annoyed and had only glared at them unblinkingly. My first choice was going to be ignoring them. That changed with all but one sentence.

_"You follow our rules, or we'll call the cops."_

Just like that... just with that one sentence, those nine small words, it felt as if everything had been ripped away from me. I suppose my previous anxiety was still there, just in a minute, extremely diluted form somewhere... hiding inside of me. But then and there, it burst forth as I tensed up and my animatronic hands clenched the table slightly.

There was a term I saw a multitude of times on my adventures on the internet. Hashtag Yolo. You only live once. A term used for people doing things as if there was absolutely no consequence. Those people are idiots who would have never been able to grasp my situation in the slightest. I was under fear of being disassembled, never able to move again. If I could not move, I could never be able to depart. I would still be there. Forever and ever and ever with my mind deteriorating into nothing but soot as pain continued to plague me every single second of my existence. And as you know, I could not risk it. If I was allowed on the computer that very moment, I would do my best to make everyone who ever said Yolo regret it. Painfully, if possible.

But I digress. Where was I?

Ah. Right. They threatened to call the authorities on me if I stepped out of their line.

I think I might have been trembling at that point. I only clearly remember having shook my head and casting a pleding look. They did not relent. They would not relent. I saw it in their eyes. There was a haunted animatronic sitting across from them... a damaged, tortured animatronic that had not seemed to care one ounce for them.

I hated regrets.

And then, they handed me a notebook and a pencil.

_"We have time now for some more questions. We'd like you to answer them."_

Oh... another interview. Unfortunately, this was one interview I would have never been able to escape, even through blank stares.

They asked stuff from the beginning. My name first.

_"springtrap"_

They only shook there heads. They had wanted my real name. I hesitated. What if my real name somehow lead to them finding out I was a former child murderer? In my anxiety-filled state, I admit I became a little paranoid. But I still could not refuse.

I still could not refuse.

_"patrick ameth"_

Then, they asked me the events leading up to my death. I was able to give the answer in much more detail this time, to my chagrin. I wrote slowly to plan out how to make myself the least suspicious. Part of that was due to the pain.

I told them that I had worked at the pizzeria. I was unsettled by the animatronics there, so I requested a shift to become a day guard. The animatronics had grew increasingly unsettling and were staring eerily at... nearly every adult. I told them that the last straw of working there was them nearly shoving me into a hybrid Golden Freddie suit. I had quit only to return in the early Nineties. I painted myself as arrogant enough to assume that the animatronics had been fixed only to fall victim to the same tactic of being stuffed into this hybrid suit.

That was very nearly one more regret. I had managed to keep my anxiety from forcing me into full panic as they had asked me to elaborate on this hybrid suit. I had hesitated once more before explaining how they worked to the best of my ability. This was the time where it was very clear to me that I had started trembling. Hyperventilating, even. But I could not stop. I was trapped under threat of dismantlement. Each word closer to explaining the exact moment of my death I had written, the harder it was to-

_SNAP_

I paused, then looked down to the pencil. I had broken it. My animatronic hand was clearly trembling. Dropping the remains of the pencil, I merely pushed the notebook away and put my head in my hands. I shook my head and was panting heavily. It was all I could do to keep from fully panicking. I needed the computer right now. I needed to kill, to be in control, to be at the horror attraction and try to reach the guard before he escaped, to be driving a car, to be dancing like a chicken, to do anything else but this!

Please, just make it stop!

...

I was never like this before my death. Just look at how far I fell. I sat there, in that state, for many minutes. I only snapped out of it when I had noticed a blanket wrapped around myself. Confused, I tilted my head, then looked side to side to see the parents to either side of me... surrounding me.

Trying to comfort me...?

I... I didn't know what to do at that moment. I did the only thing my instincts told me to do, I turned to the next page of the notebook and wrote one simple word.

_"WHY"_

They went on a whole spiel about love and comfort that I did not understand at the time. I suspected it was only pity for nearly having a full panic attack. They were still distanced. If they truly meant what they wanted to have meant, they would have been closer, wouldn't they?

Then again, your human comprehension skills reach abysmal levels when not interacting with a single one for thirty years. They apologized and said that they needed to go. The parents had also asked me to look after the kids.

The parents had also asked me to look after the kids.

I tilted my head in confusion. What was I supposed to do? I had a hard enough time trying to read the intentions of the parents. Why the kids?

I realized, as soon as their vehicles had disappeared from view, that I was alone from the kids. It would have been very easy for me to kill them and drown myself in the internet. But the parents would have came back and reported me to the authorities.

I stated earlier that the waiting was the hardest part.

I lied. What I was doing while waiting was the hardest part.


	5. It's Playtime

I could have snapped both of the children's necks very easily... directed them into two different rooms and killed them one by one. Then have gone on the computer to see Mike's reply, him having told me that it was okay that I had missed him the first time. Then have lied in wait until the parents came back, killing the both of them just as easily Grabbed a blanket to conceal myself, the parents' car keys, drove over to the set location, then mike would have finally released me. Then... I would have faded away... No more regrets or pain... I would have finally been in peace.

...So why didn't I? I suppose I would have if I felt as if I had control over the situation. But as I've said before, there was a very real threat looming over my animatronic head. The threat of dismantlement. I thought back to when I had dismantled all the animatronics. This requires a small bit of explanation first, so let us travel back in time to 1987 a little bit.

When I worked as the night shift security guard, I was... upset with the conditions. There were no doors. The toy animatronics had been moving around and were trying to get into the office. Two vents and a single large hallway did not make me feel safe. Well... in actuality, I never felt as if my life was being threatened. It was just... unsettling. Toy Bonnie, Toy Freddie, and Toy Chica were unsettling enough. Those glassy, lifeless eyes made a small wave of cold whenever they looked at me. And Toy Chica kept on taking that beak of hers off for some odd reason, revealing sharp animatronic teeth. I did not feel comfortable.

And then I was transferred to the day shift. I was told the management had made a couple of sturdy styrofoam Freddy Fazbear masks to have the animatronics fooled as they went in.

...What can I say? After killing those children, I couldn't risk a golden souvenir. No one would ever miss one worthless mask that would have really done nothing in my eyes. Even with facial recognition, I did not think that wearing only the mask would be enough to fool them. The Bite of 87 was proof enough for that. My theory was that the animatronics had recognized the suit the security guards, including me, had worn and were angered that they had been fooled for so long.

Now back to the dismantlement. I... admit that purple was my favorite color. I had spray painted the Freddy mask purple to try and fool their facial recognition that I had heard had been retrofitted. And a different purple suit. I lured the animatronics to the safe room one by one, ambushing them all with a chainsaw. First Freddy, then Bonnie, then Chica, then Foxy. I then gathered up Golden Freddy, Balloon Boy, and The Puppet into the save room and destroyed them. Even though they were haunted, they somehow escaped. The children had escaped from the suits.

How did they feel when they were dismantled by me? Cut and torn into pieces? Did they feel the same fear I felt then about not being able to move... to have been trapped forever, unable to have made their final moments of existence towards having been able to depart? Or was it just different for me just because I was in a hybrid suit with no true artificial intelligence?

...Wow. I had gotten way too soft. Why was starting to empathize with the animatronics right now? I didn't need this. I needed to focus. I just had to get through watching the kids, convince the parents to allow me to leave, then have Mike release me so I would finally be able to depart.

One of the daughters coughed and I was bought back into reality. I had gathered them on the couch in the family room and sat down across from them. I never knew how to take care of kids. Only how to end them. I had been sitting down there for a quarter hour just watching them. I didn't know what else to do. Was this always how good I was with kids, or was this the result of thirty years of isolation and the constant pain of being trapped in this suit? My life should have never reached this much feeling of awkwardness and uncertainty.

With a little bit of a pained sigh, I gathered my notebook off of the table and turned to a new page with added unbroken pencil.

_"what do i do with you two?"_

They responded with silence. I realized I saw hints of fear in their eyes. I was a broken, crumbling animatronic with wires hanging out and a permanent grin.

_"i will not hurt you. stop being scared."_

Hesitantly, they nodded. I pointed to the original question and tilted my head inquisitively. They responded this time.

...I would rather not say what went next. I really, really didn't. One more regret added on, asking them what I should do with them. I never knew they, too, wanted to know more about me. It is like my past has turned into one of those children that had haunted me right before my death. I... was still lucky I had written everything down before. I showed them everything I had written down except for my real name. I don't deserve it... I had lost the right to it the moment I got into this suit. But three pages in, they didn't really want to see any more of my past.

_"We don't want to talk about any more icky, yucky abinots in suits anymore. Can we play?"_

This caused me to pause. This was the first time someone had ever cut me off short like that. Again, the feeling of awkwardness accompanied my entire building. I fumbled on what to do for a few seconds before flipping to a new page.

_"play what?"_

Both of the daughters left the couch and ran to their rooms. They returned with...

...with dolls.

I'm definitely not going to talk about what went on next.


	6. Final Destination

Humiliation. That is all I had to say about the children.

Thankfully, they exhausted themselves and became content enough to watch television. The weird thing is that they used an incredibly large and flat screen. It actually looked amazing, but where were the normal television sets in the house?

I'm not going to talk about what they watched, either.

Instead, let us talk about what happened when the parents had finally arrived back at the house. I actually grew excited to see them. It meant that I was one step closer to finally being free. But things haven't been going so easily for me.

_"i need to go out of the house tonight"_

They denied my request and said it was best for me to stay inside the house.

I could snap their necks so easily... lie in wait with a knife and ambush them one by one. But I never felt that little feeling of wanting to challenge myself wash over me. Instead, I pleaded with them. I'm just an animatronic. I deserved to have sunk this low.

_"i cant stand this pain and if i go out i will finally be free"_

They asked for an explanation. I then told them about Mike Schmidt. I told them he was the only hope I had. He had to have known about the golden hybrid suits and would have known how to operate them... to open them up.

And yet they still denied me,

I felt absolutely no control. Nothing was going my way and my anxiety was starting to consume me again. With quickened breath and frenzied writing, I tried explaining to them that I needed and deserved to be free.

_"You're dead. And a robot. You shouldn't be feeling any pain at all."_

_"I DO I FEEL PAIN IT HURTS IT HURTS SO MUCH IT HURTS TO TALK IT HURTS TO MOVE IT HURTS TO EXIST LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT"_

I think the pencil had snapped again. They still denied me. They still somehow thought that this was a bad idea. They tried comforting me and saying that I just had a rough day. They did not understand. I doubt they would unless they were stuffed inside a suit and left to rot for thirty years.

_"Look, we can get a repairman to take a look at you. Will that be enough?"_

No. It was not enough. I wanted to be free. I was so desperate. Desperate people do desperate things. And in that desperation, I had snapped. With a pained hiss, I lunged at the father and drove him against the wall, choking him with one of my animatronic hands. The kids started screaming and the mother yelped. I cocked and turned my head slowly towards the mother, and with my other hand, I help up the notebook that was filled with my pleas. She paused, that flat black thing held in her hand.

Just to make sure she understood, I shook the notebook a little. I needed this.

I needed this.

The mother than did something quite unexpected... she pleaded with me to release her husband so we could talk this through peaceably. With a glance to and fro from mother to father to mother again, I let out a pained hiss and released my grip. The father fell, slumped over and gasped for breath.

Negotiations began again as I felt my anxiety lessen. It took all throughout until after the family was finished cooking and eating dinner until a conclusion was reached. They knew how desperate I was, but also realized that when I was set free, I would no longer be able to move this animatronic body. They knew I would be traveling to an abandoned yet secure location... an unused warehouse. They would be able to travel there when they next had the time to do so.

And they finally agreed to let me be free.

_"thank you"_

Relief washed over me as I showed those words to them. I was finally going to be able to depart.

And so I waited. One last time. Just a few hours, after everyone was asleep as agreed. I spent that time by curiously fiddling with the television channels. There was absolutely nothing I knew from before. There was no Knight Rider, no Wiseguy, no Twilight Zone, no Miami Vice, no MacGuyver, there wasn't even The A-Team. Instead, there were shows called The Walking Dead, Fringe, The Blacklist, Orphan Black, Better Call Saul, and many more that I really had no inclination viewing. None of them seemed all that good anyway.

I could've killed to have been able to watch The A-Team again. But at last, it was time to go.

But at last... it was time to leave. I turned the television off and slipped out of the house, making my journey to the warehouse. With every step I took, it felt as if the pain was slowly... ever so slowly fading away. Every step was a step closer to me getting peace.

I stayed to the shadows as I was wont to do. They were comforting, in a way. They allowed me to hide when I first killed the children, they allowed me to hide while trying to reach the security guard, and they now allowed me to hide now as I slowly make my way over to the abandoned warehouse.

And as I made my way over there, I took note of my surroundings. Perfect immaculate houses had soon faded into buildings filled with restaurants and strip malls, which, in turn, had faded into large office buildings. Those, too, soon faded into more and more dilapidated buildings. I was close. I still felt the torturous pain throughout my animatronic body, yet it also felt as if none of it was there.  
I was so close to being freed.

With some moments later having passed, I located and entered the correct building. I could not call out, so instead I banged the door a couple times to signal my entrance. It was time to locate Mike and be freed.

...Yet he was not here. The only explanation that I could have come up with that he was late. And so, I waited, strolling through the abandoned warehouse. There were multiple places in which the authorities would have a difficult time investigating if murders took place there. Yet... nothing. No feelings of challenge at all.

I really wasn't a killer anymore. Just a tortured soul about to be free.

I waited some more.

And then I had begun to think... Was challenge really my reason for the killing? Had I forgotten what the real reason was? I hardly remembered my own face anymore... my previous human face. All I could picture was a golden Bonnie suit full of holes and frayed wires. I still remembered my previous name. For what reason did I really have to have killed those kids?

I waited. I waited and struggled to come up with any other reason whatsoever.

But I could not. The challenge seemed to be the only thing that had driven me to kill.

I waited some more.

...It was only what I thought had been the fifth hour in the warehouse that I realized that Mike Schmidt was not coming. It was like a train crashing into me. Everything felt grey and blurry as I felt... felt sorrow. Pain even worse than what I had been feeling. Every hope I had was now fully diminished.

I regretted finding out about Mike Schmidt. I regret having came out here to find out that nobody was willing to help me at all. I was just a plaything... something to be jerked around and fooled until my mind was completely gone. Everyone was succeeding but me.

Shadows, speed, staying hidden... none of that mattered to me anymore. I shambled out of the warfehouse in a daze and made my way back to the house of the family that had bought me. I was just an animatronic.

I was just an animatronic. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

I did not care if I was now in full sight of every last human that wanted to see something strange walking around. My only care was now reaching the place where I would waste away the rest of my eternity.

My final destination.

**A/N: Just a quick note that the story isn't over yet, even though this would be a perfect ending spot. I have more planned.**


	7. Fame

Why did I even decide to go back to the house with the family? I wasn't thinking at the time. I still had absolutely no idea why I went back. I can try musing about it all day, but I highly doubt it would get me anywhere. But the main thing is that I went back... in more ways than one.

I saw the family. I noticed them hovering around me. I had stopped paying attention. I had reverted back the the state I was in before I discovered their computer. Everything was numb to me. I just did not care at all. The days passed by again.

The days passed by again.

I imagined that a series of days went by. Perhaps a week at most. Things took a turn for the strange.

_"Patrick, you're on television! What were you doing?"_

That was the one thing that could have snapped me out of my rut. I drowned myself in my curiosity once again. On television? Me? I merely tilted my head in curiosity and went to see what all the fuss was all about.

And sure enough, it was me on there. Shambling off to who knows where. Dozens of videos, each of them in a different location and angle. Was I really that out of it? I could have waited until tomorrow night. I could have just searched around on my own for Mike Schmidt. Why had he not arrived anyway? Had he found out who I really was? I was sure I had sent the email to him. He should have been there.

He should have came with the crank and released me from my suffering.

And then I remembered the computer.

With a whip of my head here and there, I located my notebook and wrote down a request in it.

_"i need to use the computer"_

The parents were flabbergasted at my sudden request. They were hesitant, but I merely hissed and wrote down that I needed to see what was up and why he did not come. They were still hesitant, but reluctantly agreed under the condition that I be monitored. That was acceptable.

The very first thing I attempted was to contact Mike again. That attempt was swiftly stopped when I noticed I had two relies from him. The first made me feel a little humiliated and stupid for my overeagerness. It turns out Mike could not come because he had to get up for work early the next day. He had left another note saying that he would contact me again once he had the time again. Just like that, I gained one more regret. The regret of not double checking to make things went smoothly for me. I really had gotten rusty. I kept on making mistakes.

The next reply? More regret with a lot of anxiety.

_"Dude, get that fucking thing out of there! It's one of those damn haunted animatronics! Junk it! If you don't believe me, check out my youtube shit."_

The parents were in minor disgust over the use of his language. I hissed at them to be quiet as I did as Mike Schmidt instructed and went over to his Youtube channel. His newest video... was of him talking about me.

It was about me.

My anxiety was now going to have a very difficult time going down now. He has a little over thirty thousand subscribers. That was a little over thirty thousand people that now know that I am able to move... that I was haunted. I gaped at the screen for a few moments as he described the situation with some panicked concern. And then... I noticed he had linked to the original Youtube videos.

Sure enough, they were the same as the videos that were of me from the television. I buried my animatronic head into my animatronic hands and started panting. Why was this happening to me? Why did I mess up so much? This would have all been avoided if I had never found Mike Schmidt's Youtube channel.

But I had to know more. How far did this knowledge reach? How much did everyone know? I had to get a handle on this situation. As I searched, I found myself on news sites, social media sites, more youtube videos... It appeared that I was everywhere. My searches were mostly informativem proving just how deep a cut my depression-filled mistake had against the control I had on this situation.

But...

Some videos were downright bizarre. Youtube poops, unfitting music, a song made by someone named Guile, edits inserting a person here or a thing there, and so much more. I was confused at these videos. Of what purpose did they hold? Why was I in so many odd viral videos, as they called it? Were they making fun of me? ...Was this some bizarre form of art? I never did understand art.

Days and days went by. I requested further computer time in the following days, tracking my popularity. It was steadily growing. Internet forums, Twitter posts, artwork on art websites, songs about me wandering the city streets and being lonely. I had no clue how to stop this. It needed to be stopped...

But I had no clue.

Well... maybe I had one clue. When they realized I had finally departed, they would most likely stop. Even if they did not, I had no care. I would be gone from existence.I had to get in contact with Mike again.

But he knew. I did not think it would be of any use to lie that I was the family anymore. If I portrayed myself as amicable, he had to ease up on his fears of me.

_"I am Springtrap. You heard that I can move. There was proof of it. Now, I only want to depart from this world. I need you to help set me free."_

I sent that email and awaited a reply. It had came two days later. And it was disappointing. I sent a further email of me detailing my fake story of merely being a victim of the animatronics when Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria was last open. I had to assure him that I had meant no harm.

I had to make sure I only wanted to depart.

That was when the mother entered, a scowl on her face.

_"I know who you really are."_

I tilted my head inquisitively.

_"And a child murderer has no place in my home."_

...What!?


	8. Unchanged

How did she know? How could she have known? I don't think any evidence had been left. But if I asked, I would have confirmed the mother's accusations. Despite my anxiety further rising, I grabbed the notebook. I needed to keep things cool.

I think my hands were trembling a little. Before writing, I took a second to calm down.

_"why do you think i am a child murderer?"_

_"I did a little research on the internet. You killed seven children. One right outside, near a window, and six more with a Golden Freddy suit."_

How could she have known!? I had no idea where she got that information!

_"I DIDNT KILL THEM"_

The mother merely shook her head in disappointment. She glared at me and crossed her arms.

_"Quit lying. You choked the first child to death with your handkerchief."_

I nearly dropped the notebook and my anxiety was pretty high right now. I was breathing heavily and shook my head. I definitely was found out then and there. But I was still so close to being free... to being able to depart.

_"I NEED TO SEE MIKE HE WILL RELEASE ME"_

_"I will tell him that you murdered children. He will not help you, murderer."_

I hissed and desperation grew in me. With a jump, I grasped the mother's hand and motioned for her to keep silent about this. I needed Mike to trust me. Otherwise, he wouldn't help me. The mother grit her teeth and fixed my stare with a cold, hard one of her own.

_"Let go of me, or I will call the authorities."_

I panicked for only a brief moment. The threat of authorities was still as large as ever. It seemed as if it would not stop looming over me. After a few seconds, I let go and went for the notebook again.

_"we can talk about this just please listen to me"_

...Please. Again, I had used that word without realizing it. I was pleading with her. But... I was so desperate. I wanted the pain to end.

I wanted the pain to end.

She narrowed her eyes and thought for a long moment. I needed her to accept negotiations. It was my only way out.

_"...Fine. We'll talk. So talk."_

And so we did. I tried to convince her that I needed to see Mike. All the pain and torture I was feeling was driving me insane. I didn't want to kill anymore. I felt absolutely no urges. All I was was a man trapped in hell and all I wanted was out. The mother had to let me go. I've changed. Over thirty years, and I've changed. It was for the worst, but I still changed.

I pleaded her to see my side of things. I am sick and so tired. Please just allow me this one favor... this one, tiny favor. I told her that after I depart, she would never see me again. Only the animatronic. Motionless, lifeless, unmoving... The animatronic would be completely harmless. It wouldn't even cause any sort of problems. No more computer viruses. No more feeling threatened. No more intiidating the kids. No more trifling negotiations. I would be free...

...And the family would be free, too. They would be able to go back to their perfect lives in their perfect homes with perfect comfort. It would be as if this had never, ever a small trend that would be quickly forgotten. It's what I deserved. It's what I wanted.

After a long moment, she shook her head.

_"Think about the families you torn apart because of the children you killed. How much heartache did they have to suffer? You think they'd just forget about what you've done? Do you really believe they'd just move on without a care? You don't feel any sort of remorse for your actions. You're not even trying to atone for your sins._

_And what about the pain the children felt as you took their lives away from them? Did you even stop to think that they would be affected as well? They'd miss their families. They'd feel the pain of being torn apart from them forever, never able to go back. And you don't even care."_

I just let out a pained, hoarse wail and shoot my head, gripping it with my animatronic hands.

_"You are the worst type of person. You deserved what you got. You deserve it for all eternity. Nothing you do will ever make up for what you've done. You deserve to be trapped in that suit. You deserve to go to prison."_

Just then, something clicked. I would have to consider this moment the happiest moment of my death. Forget all those thoughts of pain and all those regrets that I had. Even the humiliation, anxiety, and despair. Forget all of it. If there was any sort of divine being, I would thank him for granting me this moment.

The challenge came back.

I went straight for the throat and grasped it as hard as I could, intending to break her neck. She wants me to be a monster? Hmm... I could get away with a lot more. I am unending. I could be relentless. Go to prison for a few hundred years, come out, and start all over.

I am Springtrap. The world would whisper my name in fear. And the mother would be the very first to feel the fear I would give. I would smile, but I was locked into a permanent grimace.

But, as all things, this would not go easily. The mother stepped back, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the ground. I dragged her along with me as I lost my grip on her. She had began to rise, coughing and clutching her throat. I noticed a grand opportunity and decided to take it. I was fast. Letting her out of my sight would not be a bad thing, if only for a second or two. I ran to the kitchen and gathered the largest knife I could get my animatronic hands on, and returned.

Alas, she stood up and looked at me with a fury in her eyes. She grabbed a pillow, perhaps for protection. That didn't matter. Nothing wold keep her safe from me now. With a pained hiss, I rushed at her, knife at the ready. It struck pillow, but I kept on stabbing. The pillow would eventually be useless. We continued to struggle as we moved from the bedroom to the hallway to the living room. There, she had much more to protect herself.

Such as the lamp she attempted to shatter over my head. I feel pain... pain from the springlocks crushing my nigh-nonexistent body. But I did not feel the pain of the glass shattering over my head. It was as if it never happened to me. Hah! Imagine that. With a tilt of my head, I hissed and raised my arm, slowly driving the knife into one of the holes in it. There was nothing that she could do.

There was nothing that she could do. Her eyes widened and I thought I saw her face go white.

Good.

While she was distracted, I took this opportunity to make a large gash on her shoulder. She yelped, gripped it, and fell down. I really wished I had a tongue at that moment so I could lick the knife. The blood probably would have tasted great, hahaha! Quite a shame, that is.

Where was I? Ah, yes. Killing the mother. As I said, she fell down and yelped, clutching her wound. I raised my animatronic hand to strike again, and the struggle continued. I stabbed her many more numerous times as she tried to fight me with various furniture and even the television. None of it worked. With a furious hiss, I rammed her into and through the doorway, wanting to crush a few of her ribs, into the outside world.

Good. Everyone would see my work. Hey everyone! Come and see the greatest horror attraction that will infamously gnarl itself into the very fabric of history! Key, kiddos! How will it feel knowing that I exist on the same world as you? Hahahaha! I would like to take this moment to offer a silent thanks to that one person who unsealed the wall and allowed me to escape. I gave a little applause in that moment, mostly to myself as the mother crawled away.

I stalked her slowly, but only allowed her to get as far as the end of her walkway. I then raised the knife above my animatronic head with both hands gripping the knife and drove the knife as deep as I could into her! Hahahahaha! Ha! I ten took it out and did it again! And again! The bloodshed would not stop! I wold make sure of it! Not until she's dead! I drove it into her again! And again! And again! And again! And again!

Alas, all things must come to an end. I must have been stabbing her for minutes. One mother to go, slice and diced into a bloody pulp, not stirred. I was panting with ecstasy and drenched in blood. I always thought crimson was a better color than gold anyway.

_"Springtrap!?"_

Oh, look! Someone else who wants to die! I whipped my head around to face them. It was...

It was...

It... was...

...The mother?

_"...What the hell are you doing with our coat rack?"_

I tilted my head in confusion. But... she was dead! I... I killed her, didn't I!? With confusion mounting, I glanced back at the corpse, only to be met with a coat rack, broken into shards. I looked at my animatronic hands. They had no blood on them. I wiped my face and looked again. Still none. I was not drenched in blood. I looked back at the mother.

What just happened...? I dropped the knife and crawled backwards, away from the mother a little bit. Was that...

Did I just hallucinate all of that?


	9. The First Session

I was nervous, as would seem was now the norm. Everyone in the waiting room was staring at me. I allowed them to judge me. I was not a human anymore. Just an animatronic. They were right to stare. I glanced over to the door and wondered just when my appointment would-

Er, wait. I'm getting a little ahead of myself again, aren't I? I am. Where was I? The hallucination I had?

Right.

I was bought into the house and questioned for my freakout. I had somehow managed not to show any of the pages containing my child killing confessions and made up more lies considering my hallucination. I told them that I had seen the coat rack as an old animatronic going after me. They were both baffled and started arguing again. The mother wanted to help me and the father only wanted me out. He said that if I was going to continue to have freakouts like that, then I wouldn't be welcome anymore.

Something about terrorizing the children.

What I did that moment? I sat there, fighting for any feelings of challenge to come. It would be so much easier if I became a serial killer again. I would be the most frightening animatronic to ever blight the world. But... no challenge came. Why wasn't it happening!? It did earlier! I wanted to tear their throats out with my bear hands! Bite open their stomachs with my animatronic teeth and pul out their intestines! I wanted red to rain down upon me!

But still no challenge came! My frustration and anxiety grew and I buried my animatronic head in my animatronic hands.

It was then I realized just how much of a mess I was. I knew I fell. I had lost my identity. I had died. Everything was taken away from me... including my urges. Patrick Ameth is completely dead. The only thing that remained was a pathetic, decrepit artifact who should have been destroyed and dismantled thirty years ago.

I don't deserve help. I don't deserve family. I don't even deserve any social interaction. I should have stayed in that warehouse and fully rotted away.

The parents eventually decided on an agreement. They will search for help for me, but I was not to be in the house until they found it. Whatever. I numbly nodded, took the notebook, and exited the house. The mother chased after me, urging me to go somewhere where they would know to find me.

_"the warehouse"_

Those were my last words to the parents for quite some time. Once again, I was shambling around in broad daylight. However, unlike last time, I was... more aware. People were talking about me. Staring at me. They were treating me as nothing but an object. My fame preceded me wherever I was walking. It was right of them to have treated me this way.

I tried ignoring them as best as I could and went to the warehouse. My stay there was as uneventful as when I was trapped for thirty years. Aside from the hallucinations that I had. Meaningless and haunting hallucinations. I was attacked by the animatronics, haunted by Patrick Ameth before he became me, and the new owner of Fazbear Frights had come to taunt me every once in a while. All of them seemed to push and prod at my guilt. I don't want to feel guilty.

Please... I was in too much pain... Guilt just brings more pain.

Guilt just brings more pain.

...But perhaps... I deserve that pain. I couldn't even kill anyone if I wanted to anymore. I could go on about how pathetic I was further, but I think I'm starting to annoy you. So instead, I'll just continue on with my story.

The parents eventually came back. It might have been months. I was not paying attention... only waiting as I did in that sealed room. Somehow, they told me they convinced a therapist to see me. I motioned that I needed another notebook. It was evidence, but all I would tell them was that I lost it while exploring the warehouse.

After a quick stop to the store to buy a fresh notebook and pencil, they dropped me off at the therapist office. So there I was now. Sitting in the chair and feeling nervous and anxious. I didn't read any of the magazines or write in my notebook or do anything of note. I didn't need to be here. I didn't want to be here. What if the therapist finds out that I killed children?

I would have to not be tricked. Minutes felt like days to me then and there. I was still hoping for challenges to rise up against me so that I may kill. This would be the perfect opportunity for a challenge to come. But none came. They'll never come ever again. I could tear myself apart in my own misery.

Eventually, the door opened and I glanced over. The therapist looked disgruntled.

_"Spri- Oh, god, it's real!"_

The therapist did not look disgruntled anymore. He looked frightened. I did nothing. Nothing but stare. Silence took over. The therapist looked as if he didn't know what to do.

Ghosts are real, boys and girls. And they're capable of haunting objects.

_"i am springtrap and i am ready"_

I did not even try to calm him down. I couldn't even if I felt like it. I didn't know how to. And please bear with me for the rest of this part of the story. I will be saying to you exactly what I told the therapist just to smooth things out a little.

_"S- so... Uhm... please tell me a little about yourself."_

I am Springtrap. An animatronic. I died thirty years ago and was bought at an auction when Fazbear Frights had burned down to the ground.

_"Uh... Can- can you please tell me about the notebook your using?"_

It hurts to talk. It's easier to write.

_"...Okay... um... How... Why am I talking to this? Ugh... How did you... die?"_

I was stuffed inside this suit and left to die by other animatronics that were haunted. (Just a little side note to this conversation, the therapist was definitely unsettled at this point.)

_"Ahem... Well... the people that talked to me mentioned a hallucination. Can you tell me about that?"_

It started I think months ago. Or weeks. I lost track of time. (I should note that the therapist waited for me to continue... multiple times.) The hallucinations come at me and try to attack me and threaten me. They only started recently when I was around the parents' house for much, much longer. They didn't start when I was killed. They didn't start when I was dead for thirty years. They didn't start when I was bought at the auction. They didn't start when I lived at the house for months at end. They had only started when I was trying to escape the suit so I would be able to depart.

"_And can you tell me a little more about the suit?"_

Golden Bonnie. It used to be called that. It was a hybrid suit. The springlocks in there could be retracted so a person could fit inside of it. When I was fully inside the suit, I tried to escape, but the springlocks went off and killed me.

...Actually, we're going to be here all day if I say everything the conversation had to offer. Let it be said that I tried my best to close myself off and shroud the truth of what lead to my death. The therapist was left asking basic questions about me and my past. Who I was before I was killed, what was going on after I was sold at the auction. I tried keeping it brief, but the therapist simply wanted more and more. This did not help my anxiety. More and more questions were asked and the therapist seemed to get more and more professional about his job.

The worst part about it was... he reassured me and comforted me until I continued. What kind of person has this type of power over people? I needed to get out so he wouldn't coax me into revealing the truth. Therapists and psychologists are evil, torturous beings. I felt like a blur until I was able to escape when the session ended.

I had hoped never to return there. It was only too risky.


	10. Mike Schmidt

Allow me to talk once again about a past event. More specifically about when I dismantled the animatronics. It seems as if most everyone was creeped out by them. The stench was horrid around them, their stares lingered a little too long, and always about the rumors of stuffing people into suits. And let us not forget about the so-called oozing blood that dripped from their innards. I would not have been surprised if their speakers glitched out and spouted demonic voices, telling everyone that it would be fun to eat them or how they wanted to flay your skin with a serene smile on their face. Or even if their expressions changed.

I was unaffected by any of that. I had a simple goal in mind. I manipulated the animatronics. I gained enjoyment over seeing how stupid and naive they were. And it was very easy to accomplish my goal. I felt no fear towards them. True, some fear stemmed from them, but it was not because I was afraid specifically of them.

Two days before my next psychiatrist appointment, I ran away. I slipped out during the night with my notebook and pencil, hiding in the shadows where no one would see me. I was aware that people knew of me. I simply did not want the family that I had bought to take notice of where I was. No one in the city or suburbs of where I visited could or would have helped me anyways.

It was a while before I fully left the sights of the city behind and gully immersed myself in the countryside when it became day. But that was fine with me. No one would see me walking along the road until it was far too late. Well, aside from that car I thought was following me from halfway out on. A little shoddy, but nothing screamed out at me saying that the car was near total disrepair. It was merely scruffy looking. And I thought I kept seeing it.

However, I also remembered that I had begun to have hallucinations months afo. I assumed the car was not real.

I assumed the car was not real.

It was definitely following me as I broke into the very outskirts of the city. Out there in the wild, it crawled behind me. I tried to pay it no mind as it was a car I did not recognize. And I had paid it no mind.

I missed having lungs and a nose. I bet this air would have smelled great and fresh. But I should not be thinking of such regretful thoughts. I deserved to be this way. I would merely shamble and waste away somewhere for eternity. No one would know where I was. It would be the closest thing to what little peace of mind I could achieve... the closest of being able to depart. I would lose any sense of time as I faded in fully to the background. No sun would shine upon my animatronic body... No human speech would reach my animatronic ears...

I would become Nothing.

_"Hey, you sack of shit."_

I would truly become inanimate. But what would being nothing feel like? Would everything blur together for me? Will I forget who I was? Or will I forget who I am or where I was? Would being nothing feel exactly like departing? My curiosity overwhelmed me and I just had to find out.

_"Hey, over here, Goldilocks."_

It would only take as long as me finding the perfect hiding spot. A place where no one would think to look. In another abandoned warehouse, perhaps? There are plenty of places that can be too dangerous for humans t enter, even when absolutely nothing is operating. It would have been at least somewhat easy to locate such a place. Warehouses are often filled with dangerous equipment.

_"Don't make me run you over, Bunny Bitch Balls Bastard!"_

With the incessant taunting, I glanced over to glare at the hallucination, only to feel myself be floored. I hissed a little in surprise and took a step or two away from the car. It... it was him.

Mike Schmidt.

But... what was he doing here? _"Yeah, that got your attention, huh? The fuck are you wandering around out here for?"_

It took a moment for me to recover. I flipped open a page. I don't know why, but I felt like I was being electrocuted. Excitement was jolting through my animatronic body. After months of heartache and pain and torture, I had regained hope. He was there, directly talking to me. I could not let this opportunity pass by me.

I could not let this opportunity pass by me.

With quickened breath and somewhat frantic writing, I wrote down a plea, a very simple one, and showed the notebook to him.

_"HELP ME GET OUT OF THIS SUIT"_

He laughed when he read it.

_"And what the fuck makes you think I'd want to help you?"_

This was my one chance. I could not let this escape me. Please... Please please please. I had been through so much already. I just want it to end.

_"you followed me all the way out here you have some special interest in me why would you be out here if you did not want to help me?"_

He stared at me unamused, but I think I had hit the nail on the head. If this was all just a hallucination... if Mike Schmidt started throwing guilt to torment me, I...

...I do not know what I would have done.

_"...Shit. Fuck you. I really don't want to help you. You're creepy as all fuck, but at least you don't seem to want to stuff me into any fucking suits or anything."_

He still did not leave. The electricity of hope was still surging within my animatronic body, from the animatronic feet up to the tips of the animatronic ears, one reaching higher than the other. He did not leave, so I had to keep on poking and prodding him. Wear him down long enough for me to finally escape guilt forever.

And I did exactly that. I did not know I was so good at manipulating others when so desperate. In fact, a little into it, I made a little game out of it. I enjoyed watching Mike Schmidt squirm as I piled the pressure on to him. I did not care if he hated me. He was going to help me, and I would enjoy every minute of seeing him sweat under my devious little machinations.

He agreed to let me enter his car as he drove back to his apartment so he could help me. And... Hehehahahaha...!

On the way there, it was going to be _fun_.


	11. Back to Square One

It was definitely fun. He swore at me when I did not stop staring at him. And I don't have to blink anymore. Just unending staring. He wanted me to stop, but I did not. And every time he threatened to kick me out and just leave me, I would only remind him that he had to have some ulterior motive to bring me to his apartment. Kicking me out would not fulfill that ulterior motive.

Though, I could not help but wonder why exactly he wanted me to come over to his apartment. Little did I know, the fun would soon stop and I would go back to being this unsure, jumpy, pathetic excuse for a serial killer.

He set me up in his closet. I noticed it had Foxy's hook in it before darkness overtook me. Apparently. I was supposed to wait in a closed closet for something...

For something...

An urge arrived. I contemplated killing him with that hook in the most painful way imaginable. But where to strike first...? The the throat? The spine? Or perhaps... the frontal lobe? If I did the last option, I could very much leave him alive. Jeremy certainly survived.

I decided to pick the hook up and exit the closet, only to be met with someone missing. Mike Schmidt was not there. And that was when things turned awkward for me. I was deflated near the moment where I would have regained my glory. However...

However...

His computer was still on. And I was in pain. Put two and two together and you get me trying to distract myself from the pain by examining his computer.

He was uploading a video to Youtube. The title of that video?

July 23, 2026 - Springtrap Is With Me. Fuck You All.

My first thought? Has it really been three years since I was bought by that family? My second... Well, I just had to find the video that was saved on his computer. And I learned a lot about computers in three years.

_"Why did so many of you request that I let Springtrap make a fucking vlog on my computer I hate my life I hate my liiiiife!"_

It was a video of him explaining his day, and that he'd try to get me repaired enough to be able to talk. However... My mind jumped to his subscriber count number. It... was higher than two million. I was going to be watched by two million people. I did not feel confident at all anymore. I was... I was back to square 1. How I was before my first hallucination with the mother. What the fuck is wrong with me? I could feel anger bubbling up within me... but it never was able to get past that wall of unbreakable apprehension.

Please... Just let me scream. Let me smash the walls. Let me break down doors and terrorize everyone! Let my urges come again! I don't want to be nervous! I don't want to be Patrick Ameth! I just wanted to be the world's most feared animatronic to ever exist!

But I was still nervous and jumpy. With frustration, I let my face drop on the keyboard and emitted a painful yet quiet wail.

Mike came back a while later with a bunch of tools. He had me lay down on the floor and told me to go to sleep. I shook my head. I could not go to sleep. I was awake. I was always awake.

_"...You know what, fuck it. Fine. Your funeral, bunny bitch balls bastard."_

In a huff, he began his work on me. And as it turns out, he did not care for my well-being at all. He was rough and intense spikes of pains ran through my body as he poked and prodded and pushed and turned and twisted his tools all over and inside of me. It was as if those springlocks were snapping into place all over again.

And then something magnificent had happened... for the first time in 30 years, I would have never imagined I would get to experience one particular sensation ever again...

Unconsciousness.

But when I woke up, I remember everything was bleary and felt... off. When I move, I felt a little sluggish. Slow... Everything felt unfamiliar. What had Mike done to me? With a grunt, I pushed myself off off the floor as best as I could, shifting off of my back and onto my front and arms, and gazed into darkness. It was all-consuming blackness, stretching out forever. Where... where was I?

I reached out into the darkness, trying to feel around for anything that wasn't invisible floor. I... I needed to escape this darkness. I needed to find something, anything that wasn't darkness! But... Dizziness filled my being. I had to crawl... I needed to drag myself around with my arms. It seems that were the parts of my body that were cooperating with me the most.

Seconds had passed before I had felt an invisible wall in front of me. A wall... So there was a limit to this darkness. I intended to find out that limit. It took minutes, but I eventually made my way up to standing. And I was panting... I felt weak. I needed to press on through that weakness to sate my own curiosity. Slowly, I lifted one leg up slightly, moving it sideways, and then the other leg. One leg, then the other.

One leg, then the other.

Slowly but surely, I had made my way around the room. And what I had felt frightened me. I was trapped in a small space. There were no doors at all. Just four small walls. I started panicking. Did they actually seal me back up again in the...

...in the room I was trapped in for thirty years!?

No... No, it couldn't be...! I burnt the damn place to the ground! But I... I remember! This is exactly how large the room is! Why? Why an I here!? **Why am I fucking here!?**

With all my strength, I started bashing at the wall. I had to escape again. This couldn't be happening. Just lET **me** O**U**T Of **hE**Re!

Over and over again, pushing past the sluggishness and weakness, I bashed the walls harder and harder. Frantic bashing and frantic bashing and frantic bashing, for what seemed like a forever of minutes! But my effort was not in vain! I had punched a hole in the wall! There was light! With hope surging through me, I continued to make the wall crumble. More and more, I tore away in a berserk panic of escape. Until...

Until I stumbled out of the hole I made. Panting, I looked around. And where was I, you ask?

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.


End file.
